


Nothing On Me

by scrawly_times



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: BAMF Barbara Lake, Barbara is a former Little Sister and she will murder anyone who touches her son, Bioshock AU, Blood and Gore, Bular's gonna get yeeted, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fusion/Crossover AU, Horror, Little Sister AU, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rapture (BioShock), also known on tumblr as, basically look up triggers for Bioshock and you'll have a list for this fic, she's not okay but she's still gonna kick ur ass, typical for bioshock anyways, vaguely cracky but generally pretty serious, yote?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawly_times/pseuds/scrawly_times
Summary: Barbara once was a lost Little Girl, harvesting 'angels' and protected by her Daddy and oblivious to the horrors of everything around her. It wasn't good people who rescued her. Now she is a doctor, and a mother, and she does not CARE what these trolls say or what some ridiculous magical amulet tries to do to her son. She is not letting ANYTHING lay hands on him.Shenanigans and badassery and quite a lot of dubious morality ensues. Also known as the Little Sister AU over on tumblr!
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Future Though
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Nothing On Me

**Author's Note:**

> hey what's up it's me greatatcrime finally getting off my butt to make content for my own AU! 
> 
> If this sounds familiar and you're not fond of frequenting the Tales of Arcadia tag on tumblr, it may be because you've read Shocking Biology by Aunty_Climatic! The author of that fic was originally inspired by my AU on tumblr and though I really do love her interpretation of it, I just love me some feral found families protecting each other with tooth and nail and disrespect of morals or laws. (Once I figure out how to link her fic I'll do it- her interpretation is really sweet, you should go give it a read. Plus she's probably bound to update more frequently than me.) 
> 
> Do beware! I love Bioshock and especially love it for it's gory horror and the way it throws humanity out the window while... also strangely keeping the strongest notes of humanity alive and thriving. This fic ain't gonna be pretty! It's gonna be messy! They're gonna have trauma! There's gonna be blood and gore and lots of violence! Hope y'all enjoy! 
> 
> There is gonna be an attempt at endgame Barbara/Strickler btw!

_Mr. Bubbles was right behind her, she was skipping and humming as she watched the pretty fish tanks on the walls. It was so fun watching all the fishies swim and play with the divers! Sometimes the fishies would kiss the divers too!_

_She hummed and sucked her kissing bottle, it was nearly empty and her belly wasn’t full at all! She needed more chocolate to get ADAM for Papa Suchong._

_“Daddy, we need to go find more angels.” She reached for her daddy’s hand and Mr. Bubbles reached back out to her._

_Her fingers closed around his big fancy glove and she smiled up at him. He smelled nice and happy and he sang a pretty tune to let her know he was ready to go._

_She skipped along the hallways and took a biiiiig sniff. She smelled Daddy and lots of strangers and lots of ADAM, but only a little bit of it was strong enough to have chocolate. She frowned._

_“Daddy, come on slowpoke, we gotta go 'splore!” She tugged him and raced down the hallways, partially ignoring and partially shying away from a few strangers nearby. They looked at her and talked about her behind their hands. How rude! Daddy growled at them and they ran away when he blew his bubble gun at them._

_It took a long time for her to find an angel that smelled strong enough but there were a lot of angels fluttering around waiting for kisses. She felt bad she couldn’t stop and kiss every angel but she had to be a good Little Girl and get lots of ADAM for Papa Suchong!_

_Every now and then she felt… funny. Her vision went fuzzy and the angels were covered in red… juice… and sometimes the strangers were covered in red juice too… and the angels lost their wings and halos and she could see… they looked like the strangers, except they were just laying on the ground not waking up…_

_Why weren’t they waking up?_

_Daddy sang for her and she perked up at a good smell._

_“This way, Mr. B!” She laughed and pulled Daddy towards the biggest, prettiest angel. Sitting nice and pretty with lots of pretty laces and a nice dress. Waiting for her to kiss them and make chocolate!_

_She pressed her kissing bottle right up to the angel, wiggling it around to make the angel laugh and giggle. It was ticklish! But that was okay, the kissing bottle was funnest when it got the angels laughing!_

_She pulled the kissing bottle away when the angel stopped glowing, going to sleep now that she’d made them laugh so hard. Being tickled was exhausting!_

_Now her kissing bottle had LOTS of chocolate stored in it and she took a big drink so she could drink all the ADAM up. Tasty!_

_Except the chocolate tasted funny, for some reason… it kept going back and forth between sweet and something else._

_She looked at the angel and frowned. It flickered, her vision went fuzzy, the angel wasn’t an angel anymore. It was a stranger, wearing a juice stained dress, with her skin cut like a fruit and peeled back like a banana. Except it wasn’t tasty fruit inside, and what was a banana? She didn’t know what a banana was, why..?_

_The angel flickered back and forth between sleeping angel and fruit lady and she took a few steps back, something bad trembling in her stomach. Her stomach felt bad. She felt… bad._

_Her kissing bottle didn’t look right, it was long and sharp, it was covered in red juice and so… was her hand…_

_She felt chocolate dripping out of her mouth and she wiped some of it away with her hand._

_Red juice covered her hand._

_Red juice covered her hands, her arms, her face-_

_She_ **_screamed_ ** _and yelled for Daddy, turning around to reach for him._

 _Mr. Bubbles was gone, Daddy was gone, Daddy was on the ground groaning and he was a monster a big_ **_monster_ ** _he was covered in red juice and strangers walked around him reaching for her, weapons, pointy things, hands and hooks reaching for her-_

* * *

Barbara sat up in bed strangling a scream on instinct, ignoring the way her entire chest choked up in pain. She leaned over herself and curled up, choking, struggling to pull in air without letting a single sound out. She couldn’t let her nightmares show, couldn’t let them control her. 

It took her far too long to wrangle her screams until they didn’t choke her anymore, sobbing silently and leaning over her knees to let her blankets soak up the tears. After letting herself cry for a few minutes Barbara finally sighed and straightened up, looking at her bedside clock. 

6:30. 

She could hear faint noises downstairs, but only because it was so early and eerily quiet. Barbara hated this time of night and morning. It felt too much like the house was isolated and cut off from the world when it was so _quiet._ She preferred it when the crickets chirped and cars raced outside and the birds sang. 

As if answering her silent panic a bird called outside and she smiled faintly. 

Barbara pushed her blanket aside and stepped out of bed, breathing slowly and taking deep breaths. Collect yourself. Calm yourself. You didn’t have a nightmare. You weren’t crying. 

She went to the bathroom first to wipe her face and check for red eyes. She looked in the mirror to undo the braid in her hair she hadn’t bothered to take out before passing out last night- 

Barbara gasped and drew back when her skin was gray, covered in dark veins, her eyes a few shades too light. 

She huffed and flicked the lights on, hands gripping the sink too tight. Barbara looked back up into the mirror. 

Perfectly normal, freakishly perfect skin. Bright blue eyes. Bright red hair, the envy of half the hospital nurses, messy and out of order… but just in the way that said she’d slept with a braid in and hadn’t brushed it yet. 

“Pull yourself together, Barbara.” She whispered to herself wryly, looking at herself tiredly. 

Decades would never wear down the trauma of being a Little Sister. Decades would never stop it from haunting her every single night and day. 

She threw water over her face and undid her old braid, brushing her hair out until it was as impeccable as always. Barbara hummed an old, sad lullaby under her breath as she brushed her teeth too while she was at it. 

"In the house of upside down, cellar's top floor, attic's ground. In the house of upside down, laughing cries and smile's frown. In the house of upside down... found is lost and lost is found..." 

Barbara sighed and walked downstairs, still humming as she reflexively fixed her braid back in place. It kept it nice and steady right where she needed it. And it was… it was comforting, remembering. Keeping a little piece for herself to remember something nice. 

“Mom!” Jim perked up where he stood in the kitchen slicing something. “Why’re you awake? Didn’t you get back late last night?” 

“Oh you know me, insomniac extraordinaire.” Barbara took a deep breath in to absorb all the delicious smells filling the house. Her nose was so much more sensitive than a normal person’s, she could smell herself and Jim and faint hints of ADAM and every single ingredient her talented son was using. “Smells great! What’re you making today?” 

She leaned against the counter as she got the coffee pot ready. It was never as good as coffee boosted with EVE, even after decades of not drinking the stuff, but she still felt she needed the caffeine to function with as little sleep as she got. Some days she barely slogged through. 

Jim happily listed off what he was doing and she listened peacefully, enjoying the safety and comfort of her own home with her son. She loved watching him do what he loved. She loved letting him ramble on and on about his special interests and knowing he had passion and love for so many things. This wasn’t an out of the ordinary situation either. The two of them were often up at odd hours just talking and existing together. Even if they didn’t interact much at normal hours of the day they saw plenty of each other when the rest of the world was quiet. 

Jim of course made both of them breakfast, though she picked at it and he barely ate. Barbara’s appetite was dubious at best and Jim had somehow picked up her eating habits over the years. She frowned and tried to eat her omelet. Hungry or not, she had to set an example. And it really _was_ delicious. Jim seemed to copy her and eat more as she did without even noticing and she restrained a laugh. 

“Got everything you need?” Barbara leaned against the door as Jim pulled on his backpack and headed towards the garage. “Schoolbooks, laptop, library books, bandaids, gloves-” 

“I’ve got everything, I’m alright Mom.” Jim leaned in close to give her a hug and reached up to kiss her on the cheek. “And I’m extra careful with getting cuts like always.” 

Barbara softened and hugged him gently. “Thanks, honey, you know I worry…” 

As far as Jim knew, his blood was a biohazard because she had Hepatitis B and he’d gotten it from her while she was pregnant. As far as Jim knew, he had to be careful with his blood because it was a mild biohazard and nobody wanted to have the chance of liver failure. As far as he knew she was a doctor so of course being cautious about biohazards was trained into her. 

Jim didn’t know about ADAM, or EVE, or Rapture, or Little Sisters, or anything. His life was a lie. She’d raised him on nothing but _lies._

Barbara hoped with everything she had that Jim would _never_ know the truth.

* * *

Barbara got home from work late as usual - or way too early in the morning one could argue - and pulled the car into the driveway with a sigh. The TV’s light filtered through the blinds and the kitchen light was on. 

She smiled as she opened the door. She told Jim time and time again to not stay up waiting for her. 

He wasn’t in the living room. 

That alone was odd, Jim was very _particular_ about the house being in exact order. He never left lights on. And Barbara was more than pleased to have an orderly house, she kept up to his very stringent insistence on how it was to be kept. 

What really raised the hairs on the back of her neck was the strange, _rich_ smell filtering through the air. It smelled like dirt and earth and garbage and decay and old things- it made her throat close up briefly because it smelled like _Daddy_ but she shoved it aside, because even if her father _was_ here he wouldn’t smell like a _Big Daddy_ anymore. 

So Barbara immediately went on guard and sniffed, searching for Jim’s scent. The two foreign smells were slightly faded if still lingering. 

Something had been in her _house._ And it _wasn’t human._

Her hackles raised, Barbara silently stepped through the house towards the basement door. Smells were strongest from there and she could smell Jim and faint hints of _blood._

“Jim?” Barbara called gently, hands twisted and curled in position. She opened the door slowly so it wouldn’t creak and crept down the stairs. 

Jim was on the floor and not moving. 

“Jim!” Barbara leapt the many feet in a heartbeat and ignored the instinct to pretend to be _normal_ to _control_ to stay within _human limits._

She crouched over him, looking around the basement with a harsh eye. Nothing was here anymore. Things were disorganized, as if shoved around haphazardly, and the foreign smells were stronger down here. But there was nothing _there._

She took a deep breath and leaned in close, cradling Jim as if he were made of glass. What had hurt her baby boy? 

“Jim? Honey?” 

She could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. She followed the smell of blood to the top of his head. A small cut, with a small smear on one of the pipes for the furnace. He’d hit his head. It wasn’t dangerous but head wounds _always_ bled so much. 

Barbara sighed and relaxed a bit. He’d been knocked out, and that still made every instinct in her scream, but he was _fine._

She picked her son up and walked upstairs, not straining at all. He wasn’t particularly heavy even if she hadn’t been stronger than a woman her size should be. 

Once she’d decided he wouldn’t need stitches Barbara got an ice pack and a wet cloth, wiping the trickles of blood out of his hair. It wasn’t even that bad, really, she’d just smelled blood and… gone into overdrive. Again. Even the tiniest amount of blood overwhelmed everything else in her brain and put her in panic mode. 

To be fair, she wasn’t sure why he’d passed out with a bump this small. It could’ve hurt quite a bit getting it but not nearly enough to have him laid out on the floor like that. 

It had something to do with the foreign smells, she just knew it. It made her blood **_boil._ **

“Jim, honey, wake up?” She shook his shoulder as she wiped his head clean. He’d have to shower to get the little flecks of dried blood out of his scalp. 

After a little urging Jim’s eyes fluttered open and she sighed in heavy relief. 

“Mom?” He mumbled, then his eyes flew open wide and he sat up abruptly. Only her own reflexes kept him from bashing his head into hers. “Mom! They-! What?!” He looked around frantically, looking confused and frantic. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s alright.” Barbara hugged him close and squeezed him tightly, keeping the anxious shaking she wanted to do under control. “Are you okay?” 

“I- my head hurts…” Jim said distantly, sounding like he wasn’t sure what to do with his new surroundings. He didn’t sound surprised that he was hurt. 

“I came downstairs when I got home from work and found you passed out on the floor!” Barbara petted his head worriedly. “It looked like you hit your head, what happened?” 

“I- I heard something in the basement, and I thought it was raccoons!” Jim wouldn’t stop looking around frantically. “But then- then there were these two big- big…” He hesitated, as if not sure how to continue, as if he didn’t think she’d believe him. 

Barbara came to a crossroads, yet another out of thousands she’d been through, where the slightest word and her whole web of lies would come pouring out. She was used to throttling the urge before she carried through with it. 

She could say she knew something inhuman had been in the house, could explain she knew monsters existed, could say so many things to alleviate Jim’s worry and panic. 

Like usual, when presented with that opportunity Barbara shoved it into the deepest, darkest corner possible. 

“Two big what, Jim?” She frowned worriedly and did her best to project naive confusion. If he came out and said what he’d seen she didn’t know what she’d do, how she’d react, but if he decided to keep it to himself she’d let him duck his head down and pretend it had never happened. He deserved that. He deserved the chance to _pretend._

And while he was in school she’d hunt those smells down herself so they could never touch her son ever again. 

“I… I dunno.” Jim said quietly, unsure, looking so incredibly lost. 

“Are you doing okay?” Barbara let it slide without hesitation, patting his cheek. “You don’t need stitches but your head’s got to be stinging.” 

Barbara stayed the gentle, loving mother all morning until Jim had to go to school and she offered to drive him, saying she’d pick him up and drive him home after school as well. It was easy to push it off as Barbara not wanting Jim riding a bike after hitting his head. It was actually that she didn’t want him riding around town freely right now when something was out looking to hurt him. 

Jim was quiet the entire car ride and said his goodbyes passively, looking thoughtful as he trudged into school. Barbara watched him go with a fierce ache in her chest and spent most of her drive back to the house with her fingers clenched tight on the steering wheel. 

She didn’t _get_ a childhood. She didn’t _get_ to be carefree. She didn’t _get_ to have boys and girls be the biggest priority of her life. Seeing Jim have _any_ sort of abnormal stress on him hurt to start with. Knowing some inhuman _monsters_ were causing it… Barbara had to pull her anger in before her hair started to rise in an invisible force. 

She had a thought, back to the phone number she knew by heart. Her mother’s strict, professional voice that never failed to soften when her numerous children called. Her mother’s harsh green eyes that could glow and turn to slits in a heartbeat. Her very inhuman mother who would not hesitate to come to help her daughter out if Barbara’s problems were indeed of the inhuman variety. 

Barbara thought of Jim, and his soft rambling when he cooked, of the dedicated expression he had when the only problem he had in the _world_ was if he’d flipped an omelet just right. 

Barbara thought of rowdy siblings and the steady, rumbling presence that was her father and she _yearned._

But thinking of Jim reminded her that they didn’t _know_ about Jim. That Jim didn’t know about _them._ That bringing them into the picture would raise questions, so many questions, and confuse everyone. 

It reminded her that she wasn’t human either, anymore, and all she _ever_ wanted was for Jim to have the opportunity to just _be._ She refused to let his life be changed with the knowledge of what exactly ran through his veins. 

And maybe she was lonely, and scared, and she was so, so terrified that Jim would look at her and see just how much of a monster she was. 

Barbara remembered looking down at corpses and drinking blood like it was chocolate and playing in ashes of a burning society. So she never, ever wanted him to know. 

Because she knew she would deserve whatever disgust he would look at her with.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to see a bunch of art and hcs for this AU go ahead and check out my tumblr @weregreatatcrime and the #Little Sister AU tag! I love talking about this AU sm


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